California Loneliness

Home : Stories by Catw00man : The Adventures of Havoc and Wonderboy : California Loneliness

Summary: Kevin is lonely and watching Jeff in the garage, and Jeff decides to confront him about it.

AUTHOR: Catw00man
EMAIL: catw00man@cryptoffic.com
RATING: NC-17
SERIES: The Adventures of Havoc and Wonderboy
CHARACTER: Jeff Gordon/Kevin Harvick, alternating POVs
COMPLETED: April 25, 2005
WORD COUNT: 5,329
DEDICATION: To Lisa who did another amazing beta job for me. Thanks for filling in hon, your comments were awesome just as before!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ok, yes, I'm really getting hooked on this pairing because it's so unexpected and in my eyes so perfectly hot. Maybe I'm nuts, but I hope you enjoy because I’m sure there’s going to be more. Also, I’m still looking for a name to this series so if anyone has any ideas feel free to email me.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: ***** denotes POV shift.
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California Speedway: February 25, 2005 - Post Final Practice

Why did he have to be right?

I wanted to believe he was screwing with me, trying to hurt me. But I knew he wasn’t. I knew he was telling the truth--that he saw right through me--even though I didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t believe it--at least not until I saw it with my own eyes. But why did he have to be right? And why can’t I get him out of my head?

Shake my head and force the last thought from my mind. It’s just…too confusing to think about. I Pull into the garage as Todd comes over the radio telling me that we’re 32nd fastest. The car hasn’t been fast in practice, and I’m not thrilled about NASCAR impounding the car after qualifying, but he assures me it’ll be fine on Sunday. And although I’m sure he’s right, I’d still like to pick up some more speed before qualifying.

Kill the engine and pull down the window net. It sounds like the guys are going to spend the last ten minutes of practice making a few more adjustments on the car for qualifying tomorrow, so they don’t need me. Pull off my helmet, unfasten my belts, then climb out of the car, focusing on each mundane detail. But as soon as my feet hit the ground my mind is spinning again.

I really wanted to believe that Jeff was just trying to piss me off, but even so, I couldn’t get his words out of my head. I had to find out for sure. I had to know. I couldn’t just sit around waiting to see if Junior was going to show up. As much as I didn’t want to know the truth--the wondering, the doubting, the not knowing were all killing me.

Move further into the garage and lean against the tool box in front of the car trying to give the appearance I’m interested in the work going on around me. But my mind couldn’t be further away as memories of what happened almost a week ago run through my head again.

I had to know what was going on. I’ve never been the patient type, so I waited until after the 500. There was no way I could let things drag on another day, much less another week. I slipped away the first chance I got, going to him like I have so many times before, thinking all the while that Jeff had to be wrong. He didn’t really know what was going on. Junior wouldn’t lie to me. He wouldn’t hurt me. It all had to be a big mistake.

But it wasn’t.

I got to his coach just as darkness began to fall and slipped quietly inside. He’d always told me if I could get away to just “come on in” so I really didn’t think much about it. But I should have. I should’ve known. I should’ve paid more attention. But I never expected to actually find them together. I wanted to get out of there as fast as I could and be sick. I wanted to punch his face in. But Junior wouldn’t let me do either. No, for the first time I can actually remember, he wanted to talk.

Fancy that.

Shake my head at the memory and watch distractedly as the guys work on replacing the shocks. I try to pay attention, try to focus my mind on anything else…but I can’t. Instead all I can do is remember the betrayal as he called my name, chasing me down the short hall of his coach, as he struggled into a pair of jeans. He caught me right as I made it to the door, and it took everything in me not to turn around and slam my fist into his face. But how could I? What right did I have?

Instead, I let him pull me over to his couch and force me to sit down, even as Truex--who had obviously gotten dressed in a hurry--tried to leave as inconspicuously as possible. I couldn’t even bring myself to glare at him. I couldn’t even look at him. I still couldn’t believe any of it was real--that is until Junior reached over, put his hand on my arm and told me we needed to talk.

Talk. Right. As if there was anything left to say. Glance down at the thought and kick at a stray lugnut, sending it skittering across the garage. Immediately get a dark glare from one of Michael Waltrip’s crew members and shrug at him, silently daring him to do something about it as I move to sit down on a stack of tires next to the toolbox. He shakes his head in disgust and turns away not sparing me so much as another glance. Such is my life.

Cross my arms as I dangle one foot from my new perch, kicking my heel against the rubber and I lose myself to my thoughts again. What could I have possibly said to him anyway? We were just having “fun” right? How could it be any more? I mean, I’m married! What did I really expect him to do, wait around forever, meeting me in secret whenever I could get away? He knew I didn’t have the guts to give him any more, so he moved on…like he should have. I just wish he had fucking told me.

But the thing is I know he didn’t mean to hurt me. He didn’t want me to find out the way I did…granted I never told him about my “conversation” with Jeff. He just didn’t know how to tell me. But that’s the way he is. He’s never been one for words, always opting for actions instead. In the past that had always made things easier. But now…I swear sometimes he can really piss me off, the way he never really wants to face things. Yet, I can’t help but wonder--am I really any different? Maybe if I wasn’t so afraid of leaving her, he wouldn’t have had to move on. But it doesn’t matter now. It’s over. And I feel like I’ve lost my best friend…except I know he was so much more than that.

Sigh deeply and continue to ignore the blur of activity around me as I force myself to admit I haven’t really lost him. I know that. Junior still cares about me and I know he always will. That’s the way he is. But how can I possibly bring myself to go anywhere near him when I know I’ll have to watch him with Truex? I can’t even stand the thought. So where does that leave me? Lonelier than I’ve ever been in my life, that’s where.

Look down the garage to the empty stall several spaces from mine. I see the blue and red flames on his toolbox and can’t help but wonder how he does it. How can he spend so much time with Jimmie, when from the way he reacted at Daytona, Jimmie’s moved on? I don’t get it. I don’t understand how they can seem so comfortable with each other when I swear I saw hurt in his eyes when I mentioned Jimmie’s name. Maybe I was imagining things, or maybe I don’t even know what I’m talking about. Still…

I don’t understand.

*****

As I pull off the track at the end of practice, I can’t believe this is the last time we’ll get to work on the car until the race. We haven’t even qualified yet! Stupid new impound rules. Why NASCAR seems to think they have to change things every season is beyond me. You’d think “The Chase” would have given them enough drama. You’d think cheating me…. No. I’m not going to go there. It’s over. We’re just going to have to play by the new rules and adapt the way we always do.

Push these thoughts out of my mind as I turn into the garage.  Once I pull into my assigned stall I loosen my belts and reach for my helmet.  I see him instantly…watching me. Sigh softly and reach for my hat as after I cut the engine and toss the wheel on the dash. Glance over and see he’s a few spaces down and coming my direction--not that it’s a surprise. Pull myself from my car and slide my sunglasses on in one practiced motion and I can feel his eyes on me. When haven’t his eyes been on me--watching my every move? Take a deep breath, preparing myself to face him, and turn a forced smile already on my lips.

“Hey Jimmie, how’s the car?” I ask but barely even hear his response.

Vaguely listen to his words as he tells me about his set-up, the feel of the car, and how much he loves being back in California. Instead I opt for trying to figure him out--for what must be the millionth time.

He makes no sense at all. I swear he doesn’t act any differently. Honestly I can’t imagine anyone else can tell a thing has changed between us. He reaches forward and when he touches my arm I try to force back my instant reaction to his touch. Why does he still do this? I’d love nothing more than to ask him, make him tell me why he made everything change, but I know I won’t. I never have and never will. But I still wonder…and probably always will.

Nod to him and continue to smile when he tells me something “funny” Chad said.  I hope I’m giving him the right response because I can’t focus on his words. All I can do is feel his thumb running across my arm before he finally pulls his hand away.  Why did he do it? I don’t understand. Not when he keeps looking at me the same way, taking any and every chance to touch me…just like he always has. I know his eyes still follow me across the garage, even when I’m not looking. I can feel them. So why in God’s name did he marry her?

I remember when I first heard they were engaged. He didn’t even tell me. He never, ever talked about her when we were together, and I never pushed. I don’t know why. I guess, since he never stopped coming to me, I chose to ignore the entire thing. But that didn’t make it go away. That didn’t stop him from walking down the aisle and never coming to me again, even though I can plainly see on his face nothing’s changed.

But it has.

Everything’s changed, and it all seemed to happen so suddenly, even though it shouldn’t have. I knew it was coming, but I didn’t. I never faced it, and he never forced me to…not until it was too late. I remember what was “supposed to be” our last week together--not that it was ever called that--and for the hundredth time I thank whatever God there is that I was too sick to go. I never would have been able to handle it. I never would have been able to be with him, knowing there would never be another time, knowing I was losing him…for real.

But I couldn’t go.  Even after seeing the hurt in his eyes, sick as I was, there was no way I could make it to Paris. No, the “last time” we were together…wasn’t. I mean, I didn’t know it was--or would be--and that’s probably the only reason I’ve been able to deal with it.

I wonder if he knows that even now, if he ever came to me, I could never turn him away. I’ve never been able to. But he’s never made a move beyond the careful “public display” we’ve all but perfected. The guarded looks, the occasional touches, so innocent and so…not. Does he have a clue as to how much keeping up this charade is killing me? Does he know how much it hurts when he looks at me with such obvious longing when I know nothing will come of it?

Look up at him and see that he’s taken off his ever-present sunglasses. Why is he doing this to me? He knows how much I love his eyes--twin pools of amber that reachinto my heart--and I have to turn away from the intensity of those eyes and all the unfulfilled promises that lie within. I’m so tired of playing this game. I’m so tired of wanting what I can no longer have, even though I still have no clue as to why. Turn from him, still keeping up the pretense that I’m listening as he rambles on about meaningless things just to be able to stand close to me. Look around and then I see….

Shining green eyes…looking directly at me.

They seem to glow, even in the indirect sunlight of the garage, sparkling with little flecks of gold I can see from several yards away. He holds my gaze, only briefly, and in that instant I can see sadness, loneliness--maybe even jealously?  But only for an instant because he turns away, pushes himself off the stack of tires he was sitting on and walks away.

I want to follow him.

The thought hits me without warning and I can’t seem to force myself to push it away. I want to know why he was watching me. Did he finally find out about Dale and Truex? Is that why he’s so obviously--well, it’s obvious to me anyway--hurting? I wonder if he knows how easy he is to read. All you have to do is pay attention. It’s so clear he hasn’t been happy for a long time. He hides it with sarcasm and an attitude that is completely transparent--at least that’s always the way it seemed to me.

Why is it that no one else seems to notice? Why is it that I do? Feel Jimmie standing so close to me and I I feel nothing but loneliness inside.  That’s when I realize maybe I see it in Kevin because I feel the same way. Is that why he was looking at me?

I’m being ridiculous. Seeing things I want because misery loves company. I’m sure the little shit can’t stand me…but I still want to follow him. He was watching me after all. Maybe there’s a little fun left to be had?

“Hey Jimmie, I’m gonna catch you later, alright?” Look back over my shoulder and I can see the disappointment cross his face. Briefly consider staying with him, but I can’t. I just can’t do this right now. “I’m going to grab something to eat. See you tonight?” He hesitates a moment and then nods.

“That’s sounds like a good idea.  Channy’s probably waiting for me,” he says and I wonder if his words were meant to twist the ever-present knife in my heart. I must have let something show because his amber eyes seem to soften even more and he puts his hand on my arm again. “I’ll see you later,” he replies softly and I remember what those words used to signify. Push that thought and others that try to surface from my mind and turn to see where Harvick went.

Watch as he crosses the open space between the garage and his hauler, pausing only to sign a few autographs for some insistent fans before heading inside the Goodwrench trailer. Take my time, walking through the garage, being careful not to take a direct route since I never know who might still be watching. Glance over at Kevin’s garage stall and see that all of his crew is still working on the car. That should mean he’s alone.

Perfect.

*****

Step into my hauler and I’m thankful to see that it’s empty. Walk over to the small refrigerator and pull out a Coke, twisting the lid and taking a drink, and my mind starts spinning again. He saw me watching them. I know he did. He looked straight at me, but I couldn’t begin to read his expression because his mirrored sunglasses only reflected the garage around him. I wonder what he was thinking. It’s not like we’ve ever been friends. Hell, the longest conversation we’ve probably ever had was two week ago when we….

I shake my head and take another sip of my cola before sitting it on the counter beside me. Why can’t I stop think about that…whatever it was? And why does the very thought of him pressing me up against a wall again still get me hot? I’m lonely. That all it is. I’m lonely and he was just good at….

I have to stop this. Now.

I feel someone come into the hauler behind me and I don’t give it a thought--that is, until I hear the mocking voice.

“You know, Havoc, you’re never gonna get another win with speeds like today.”

I whip around, shocked he would follow me in here. He grins and slowly slips off his sunglasses, sitting them on the counter beside him. Blue fire. Blue eyes of fire boring into me are all I see and I try to find a snappy comeback for his teasing remark. Blue eyes that could be filled with…lust?

“What’s wrong Gordon? Get tired of playing Daytona media bitch all week and decide to come mock the ‘losers’?” I shoot back at him and his smile seems to grow. What game is he playing? Why is he here? I want to ask, to demand why he’s screwing with me again.  But before I can he slides the door closed behind him and lunges for me, pinning me against the counter. His mouth crushes against mine and I’m overwhelmed as he pushes his tongue past my lips, gripping the back of my neck and pulling me down to him.

The kiss is fire, commanding and dominating, just like before, and for a moment I forget where we are. He presses himself flush against me and I feel the heat of his body, even through the layers of fire resistant material between us. Then he pulls back suddenly and with a teasing glint in his eyes as he tells to me, “Are you saying you’re a loser, Happy? Funny, I never thought you’d admit it.”

“Shut up, you bastard,” I growl and pull him to me again, attacking his lips with same intensity as he did mine only seconds before. Feel him reach down, sliding his hand down my chest before cupping the growing bulge in my firesuit and it finally hits me what we’re doing and where. Push him back, my body screaming against my actions, and meet his molten gaze only inches from my own. “Jeff, what are you--”

“I saw you watching me,” he cuts me off and I feel desire course through me at his low spoken words. I stare into his eyes and for a moment and I swear I see something else in his besides the obvious lust and desire. Recognition? Loneliness? Understanding? Could he possibly know?  Could he really see through me so easily? Try to find words, try to look closer to be sure, but then he leans into me again, tugs down the zipper of my firesuit and attacks my neck with his searing lips.

“Oh fuck, Jeff,” I whisper harshly as he tugs on my firesuit, pulling it down my arms, his teeth grazing along the sensitive skin between my shoulder and neck.

“Not this time, Kevin,” he murmurs against my ear.  Then I’m suddenly filled with loss because he’s no longer pressed against me. Shit. He is just toying with me. Open my eyes--when did I even close then?--and I realize he’s not gone. Instead, he’s dropping to his knees.

“Jeff, we can’t,” I hiss, vaguely aware of how unconvincing the words sound between my already shallow breaths. “Someone could--” but my next words are lost to a low moan as he suddenly pulls me free of my firesuit and takes my entire length to the back of his throat. “Oh. My. God,” is all I can manage and I grip the counter behind me to stay on my feet. Glance over to the door, knowing that at any moment one of my crew members could walk through it--and the very idea gets me harder than I ever thought possible.

Feel myself shaking as he sucks hard and then fucking swallows around my cock and I know I can’t take much more. I feel his fingers digging into my thighs and I reach down to grip his short hair. Try to thrust into his hot mouth, but he pins me back against the counter and moans low in his throat. The whole thing is such an unbelievable turn-on that when he moans again I can’t hold back anymore.

“Oh fucking hell!” I cry out as he continues to suck and swallow every drop of my mind-blowing release. Feel my body trembling and I close my eyes when he stands and pulls up my firesuit, zipping it to my waist. Then he leans into me and I tremble again because I swear I can smell myself on him. No one has ever driven me so wild in a matter of seconds.

His breath is hot against my ear as I whispers, “Don’t worry, Havoc, you can pay me back later.” My eyes snap open at his teasingly erotic words filled with…promise? He runs his tongue across his teeth and then gives me a sultry grin, “I really did need a snack after practice.” He licks his lips as he pushes himself back from the counter, hands on either side of my waist, and I can’t help but roll my eyes at his suggestive words. Who knew Gordon was so…dirty?

Push myself away from the counter, still trying to slow my breathing to normal, and smirk at him as I reply, “Sounds like you should be thanking me, Wonderboy.” Watch as he tilts his head and raises an eyebrow at my words. “You know, for filling you up and all,” I continue sarcastically. He looks at me in surprise for a moment and then a broad grin crosses his face and he laughs, really laughs, and I can’t help but smile at the sound.

“Cocky bastard,” he shoots back at me, eyes sparkling with laughter.

“Arrogant ass,” I snap back, a huge smile spreading across my face, and I feel my body responding to our easy teasing. My God, I want him again already. What’s wrong with me? Watch as he leans close to me again, his eyes never leaving my lips.  But then he pulls back and slides on the sunglasses he picked up from the counter beside me. How did things suddenly get so…comfortable?

He’s about to say something else, I can see it.  But then the hauler door slides open and his head snaps around to look when two of my crew members come inside.  They both stop short at seeing him standing and my mouth goes suddenly dry because I’m not sure what to say. Can they tell what’s going on? How the hell can I explain this?

He turns back to me, smile completely gone from his face, and I can tell he’s glaring at me from behind his mirrored sunglasses. What did I do now? “Stay the hell away from my car, Harvick,” he spits out at me.  Then he turns and pushes his way past my crew and I know exactly what he’s doing.

Push my way after him and stop at the door to call after him, “You just tell your boy, to stay out of my way…if he knows what’s good for him.” Watch as he stops in his tracks, back rigid with what appears to be anger. Shit. I had to go and mention Jimmie, didn’t I? He slowly turns his head to look at me and I fully expect to see him glaring daggers at me…but is that the barest hint of a smile on his lips?

“You really oughta watch that mouth of yours, Happy,” he says sharply before he turning away again, giving the appearance of being pissed as hell at me. But I swear there was more. I could be mistaken, but I swear his eyes never left my lips as he spoke to me, and I know he wet his own before turning away. What are we doing…and when can we do it again?

I do my best to wipe the small smile from my face as I turn and storm back into the trailer in search of my long forgotten Coke. I take a drink and one of my crew members decides to ask, “What the hell was up with Gordon? Why was he here?”

Shrug my shoulders as nonchalantly as possible and I take another drink. “Dunno. You know him, always has to whine when something doesn’t go his way.” Try to be as convincing as I can and smile when they tell me how they “have my back” and not to worry about him. Apparently they mistook my flushed cheeks and heavy breathing when they came in for anger--Thank God--and were all ready to go after him. Move to the door and ignore the rest of their ranting.  Look out through the window in the door and stare off into the direction he went, his words echoing in my head again.

…you can pay me back later…

I can’t help but smile to myself.

Yes, I will.

*****

Walk quickly through the garage and try to keep up my “pissed off” act when I’m anything but. I can feel the smile playing at my lips that I can’t make go away.  I can’t believe what we…what I just did. Shake my head and run the tip of my tongue over my lips. I wonder if Kevin has any idea I’ve never done anything that insane. I mean, sure Jimmie and I have…been in some interesting positions in the past, but just inside a hauler with a garage full of people?

No. I’ve never been that insane. But damn was it worth it.

Try to force back those thoughts because I feel my firesuit growing tighter and I realize I need a cold shower. Or maybe a hot one? But then I see familiar blue and silver out of the corner of my eye and I turn my head quickly scan the garage for the one person who my act wouldn’t fool. He’d know this look on me.  He’s caused it more than once.  He could see me.  He could know.  Look around again and then sigh in relief when I see no sign of the tall, lean body I know so well.

What am I doing? What if he finds out?  Quicken my stride and make my way to the motorcoach lot. How can I explain that I’ve been with Kevin, of all people, not once but twice? He would never understand…but should I care? He left me, didn’t he? So why do I feel like I’m cheating on him?

Try to push these thoughts from my mind as I scan the lot for the maroon of my coach. Why did I go after him anyway? And why did I all but attack him in public? Try my best to deny the truth, but I know the answer. It was his eyes. It was the lost and lonely look he shot me that I know mirrors my own. I wanted to wipe it away, from him as well as myself. I wanted to lose myself to him just like I did in Daytona and I didn’t even care where we were.

And it worked. For a few minutes I didn’t even think about Jimmie, and from the dazed look in his eyes before I left--eyes that showed no trace of the loneliness I saw in the garage--I know it worked for him as well. And for some reason that made me happy…and I don’t know why. Why should I care about whether or not Harvick is happy or not? Why did I like seeing him smile?

Shake my head as I push open the door of my coach and step inside. Close the door behind me and strip out of my firesuit as I make my way to the bathroom. I feel like everything is spinning out of control and has been for months. Hell, the last week, jumping from one interview to the next has barely left me time to breathe, much less figure out what I’m doing. I want to be with Jimmie, I know that.

But I can’t.

Kick off my shoes and I step into the small bathroom.  Move over to the shower and turn the water to hot. Finish shrugging out of my firesuit, T-shirt and boxers, let them drop to the floor, and step into the hot spray. Tilt my head back as soon as I feel the hot water and let it over my hair and down my back as my hand slides lower.  Reach for the hard evidence of my desire and wrap my hand around it as my other finds the wall. Then I slowly stroke myself with motions that are becoming much too practiced of late.

As I have so many times before, I close my eyes and see dark brown eyes filled with desire. I picture long fingers sliding over my skin, soft firm lips pressed against my neck, and his tall lean body spread out underneath me as I try to lose myself to the all too familiar fantasy. “Jimmie,” I whisper as I increase my pace, but frown in frustration when my release just won’t come.  Not when I know that it’s nothing more than a dream I’ll never have again.

Bite my lip and let my thoughts drift…to eyes of swirling green and gold. Don’t even think about it, just let myself picture his cocky smile, the feel of him pressed against the wall, the taste of him warm on my tongue. Suddenly the fantasy changes, we’re back in the garage but we’re all alone. Green eyes glow in the sunlight as I stalk towards him, backing him up to the front of his car. He smiles a knowing smile at me, reaching for me as I press him back across the hood, claiming his lips and pinning him down. Then I’m pushing into him, so hot and tight, pounding him against the sheet metal as he throws his head back in desire. I see that same sexy frown marring his face and I know he’s close and I press harder, faster. My name on his lips, hoarse with desire, and those glowing green eyes meet mine again.  And that’s all it takes to have me shaking and trembling with release.

“Kevin,” the name slips from my lips and I lean forward to rest my head on my forearm as the water cascades down my back. Feel my breathing start to slow and I finally realize what, no who, I was thinking about. God, what’s wrong with me? Why can’t I get him out of my head? He’s not what I want…Jimmie is. So why am I fantasizing about Kevin?

Push myself away from the wall, step back into the spray and rinse myself off. It was just a dream.  Just a fantasy--it doesn’t mean anything. Run my fingers through my hair and remember the feel of his fingers gripping my hair. It doesn’t matter. We’re both lonely, that’s all. Nothing more. But then I remember the teasing words I said to him before I left.

God, I hope he takes me up on them.

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Catw00man - catw00man@cryptoffic.com